


Night Terrors

by Bluskyy



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Nightmares, but it's Sojourn, does not actually menntion vearmina, does not mention dragonborn by name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-09 22:53:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8916274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluskyy/pseuds/Bluskyy
Summary: Even as a champion of Vaermina, there were still some dreams even she could not control.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Even though I don't think I mentioned her name, the featured DB is Sojourn from my series that will eventually be rewritten. xp  
> Here's to the beginning of a hopefully swift rewrite.

The Dragonborn almost never dreamed. For the most part, when she slept, her head would be filled with dark, comforting nothingness, almost like she would blink, and it would be time for her to take over the watch, or morning whenever she drew first watch.

There were only a few instances where she _dreamed_ , and honestly she could do without them. Sometimes, she would dream about flying to Skuldafn, the sheer exhilaration she felt during the flight, at being in the sky where her soul could be free from the limitations of its mortal vessel. Those were pleasant, though she always woke with a longing to join her kin in the skies again, and most of those days ended with her Shouting herself ethereal and leaping from the highest structure she could find while Faendal, and now Teldryn alongside, looked on worriedly. Every time, she assured them she knew what she was doing, and every time, they looked relieved to see her wave at them from the bottom of whatever cliff she had chosen to jump off of.

Other times, they weren’t so pleasant. She would wake with a startled cry in a cold sweat,  turning away from her bedmates and  muffling her terrified, gasping breaths behind hand s pressed tightly to her mouth.  Her nightmares were all similar,  each featuring the dead and dying. There were not many people she deeply cared for, but the two mer traveling with her were at the top of the list.  As h er friends,  h er  _lovers_ ,  she cared for them more deeply than she did herself, and when they were featured in her incessant terrors, Joi would reach a desperate hand out to them, softly running her fingers over skin that, merely seconds previous, had been torn and bruised almost beyond recognition. She would place her hand on their chest, feel it rise and fall with each breath, feel the reassurance that yes, they were  still here , she hadn’t failed them,  they were  _alive_ , before shifting closer to their warmth, not daring to fall asleep again that night lest they be stolen  from her again .

There were a few times she would accidentally wake one with her desperation to assure their life force remained inside their bodies where it belonged. Faendal, who had been present during most of the events that had caused her terrible recollections, just stroked her arm without saying anything, ran a thumb over the back of her hand, occasionally bringing it to his throat so she could feel his pulse and holding her close to his chest for the remainder of the night; fortuitously waking Teldryn prompted him to press his lips to her dry, cracked knuckles and whisper calm, assuaging remarks to her in the dim light of the fire. Most of the time, with one or both of her companions holding her, she could snooze lightly until morning, the same safety offered on the battlefield provided in bed.

Neither of them would mention it the morning after, and for that, she was grateful. There were more casual touches those mornings though, more quiet admissions of affection, hands lingering a moment longer than would be necessary.

For the most part, she was satisfied with their arrangement.  They were not sworn to carry her burdens, but offered anyway.  She had not asked them for their lives, but they gave them willingly.  The mornings  after were slow, they wouldn’t leave until well past first light, but the Dragonborn found she didn’t mind. 

As long as she had  her two reliable idiots by her side, there was nothing she couldn’t handle.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little ficlet in my Men and Mer series that's in the works. But it wouldn't tie in very well to the plot so I'm posting it as a possible stand alone.


End file.
